


Analogue

by endofthyme



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, M/M, Name Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofthyme/pseuds/endofthyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond wants to know his Quartermaster's name. So, he asks a second time, in a roundabout spy way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Analogue

**Author's Note:**

> I had a silly idea about what Q's name could be, and then the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Here's the fic that resulted. Enjoy. :)

Most of the time, James Bond did not give much thought to the fact that he did not know his Quartermaster's real name. Q was Q, and that was that. They had a job to do, after all, one that involved secrecy and lies and detachment. Names weren't a necessary part of their day-to-day existence. But, on the occasions that he had the time and the inclination to think about it — like these quiet evenings between missions when Q was coding something or another on his laptop and James was lounging on the sofa watching him work — the urge to find out was nearly all-consuming.

Q's name had to be on file somewhere. People were not hired by MI6 anonymously, after all, no matter how anonymous they had to become after the fact. But, the paper files about Q were probably burnt up with the Vauxhall Cross headquarters, and he did not have the codes or the requisite technical know-how to allow him access to any of the files about Q on their database. Hell, James wouldn't have been surprised to find that the only person who could crack the security surrounding information about Q's life from before MI6 was Q himself.

So, James was left with just the one option: asking Q what his name was. This particular method hadn't worked initially. He had, of course, tried it before considering circumventing MI6 confidentiality mechanisms. Once, when he was reporting back to Q branch to deliver his not-entirely-intact weaponry after a mission, he'd brought up the fact that Q still hadn't given him a name by which to call him. Q had raised an eyebrow at him, took a sip of his tea from that damn Scrabble mug, and then asked him if it was really that important for him to know. Before the agent could respond, Q's phone rang and he picked it up, shooing James away as he started talking animatedly about capacitance and resonant frequencies.

James suspected that Q had some sort of panic button installed somewhere that would make a call to him when he pressed it, because that timing was just too convenient. He left anyway and did not bring Q's mysterious name up again until he had exhausted all other methods of inquiry, short of violence or treason.

So, here he was, listening to the rapid, staccato taps of long fingers on keys and wondering about the name of the man making them.

James figured that now was as good a time as ever to speak up and ask again. "Q."

Q hummed in acknowledgement, his attention only slightly diverted from whatever he was working on at the moment. 

"Do you really want me to just call you Q all the time?"

Q's fingers hesitated on the keys. "It's not a matter of want," he said, jaw clenched near-imperceptibly. "As long as I am the Quartermaster, my identity is the property of MI6 and not my own."

James grasped at the straw he'd been handed. "So, in other words, you _want_ me to call you by your real name, but you still won't tell me what it is."

Q seemed annoyed to be so transparent, though, to be fair, James had made an extensive study of Q's tells to compensate for not knowing much else about the man. His voice acid, Q replied, "I have no particular preference one way or the other as to my moniker, 007. I would not have joined MI6 if I had anything against codenames."

James frowned. "James," he said, sternly. Q looked away from the screen and towards James for the first time in their conversation. "Not 007. Not when we're off-duty."

Q sighed, shoulders slumping inward a little, a humourless smile on his face as he turned back to his laptop. "Of course, James." He resumed typing, but with a far more resigned air. He was still typing fast — faster than James could, at any rate — but not at the speed that indicated his usual enthusiasm for the endeavor. It seemed more like he was typing just to have something to do with his hands.

James decided to change tack. He stood and walked over to the table, silently pulling up a chair next to Q. He watched a complex computer program take shape line by line on the screen. He waited until the familiar process of coding eliminated the tension in Q's frame before saying anything more.

"How much damage could just a first name do?" He observed Q's reaction intently. "Is it so unique that knowing it would make it easy to identify you?"

Q seemed more amused than annoyed now, the set of his shoulders not so defensive anymore. "Hardly. It's kind of ordinary. Nothing to write home about."

James immediately began ticking through a list of common, unremarkable names in his head. None seemed to fit the stubborn, often-insufferable genius that sat beside him, the man whose voice in his ear had kept him alive in dozens of dangerous situations. "I cannot fathom any part of you being ordinary," he said, honestly.

Q snorted. His typing had ceased, but his gaze was still on the screen, flicking from side to side as he scrolled rapidly past countless lines of white on black, reviewing his work thus far. "Oh, ha. Buttering me up _and_ encouraging me to prove you wrong, simultaneously. My two favorite things. Very clever."

"Not clever enough, clearly."

"Not when you're dealing with me."

"Someone's rather full of himself, hm?" James leaned closer to Q, slipping his arm around the computer genius and rubbing gentle circles into his side. "Not that you don't have reason."

Q's lips quirked ever so slightly. "Good to know I'm appreciated." And there it was. That look in Q's eyes that drew James in like a moth to flame. The one that spoke of confidence to the point of arrogance and modesty to the point of reticence in equal measure, as though Q knew he was the best, but couldn't quite understand why no one had surpassed him yet. It made James want to ruin him and cherish him and, above all else, it made James want to know his _name_.

James slid his hand lower, lifting the hem of Q's shirt to press his fingers against the warm, smooth skin beneath. James's leg was flush with Q's, and his other hand had migrated to Q's upper thigh and was tracing patterns along the fabric of Q's trousers. 

Q seemed quite affected by the display, if the way his eyes glazed over and his cheeks reddened was any indication, but he huffed in annoyance anyway, setting his jaw stubbornly. "Seduction," he said, dead-pan. "Naturally the next tool you pull out of your bag of tricks to get what you want. Standard 007 operating procedure."

James let go as though burned and pulled back. "Q. I hope you don't think that I—" Was he really acting like his Quartermaster was just another mark, to be manipulated into giving up whatever information James required? James couldn't be sure. He'd spent half a lifetime doing things like this, gathering intel, and it was a tough habit to break, especially when it was going to happen again in the field next week. "You can keep your secrets, and I won't hold it against you," he said with finality. "I don't need to know. I am just... overly curious. That's all." Q would continue to be Q. The world would go on as it had before, and James would be content as long as Q was there by his side. Figuratively speaking, of course. He didn't want Q caught in the crossfire of one of his fairly frequent gunfights.

Q tapped a sequence of keys with finality, so quickly and with such practiced ease that they blended together into one sound. His hands moved off of the keyboard as he turned, his knee bumping gently against James's. James only gave the screen a cursory glance, but if he had to make a guess, it looked like something was running that would take a while. James had Q's full attention for the moment — a rare treat, as Q's focus was not often so single-minded. His eyes, usually obscured by the glare of a backlight on his glasses, were breathtaking to behold when they were directed at James, crinkled at the corners in wry amusement. "I suppose I should have expected this when I decided to take up with a spy."

James chuckled, relieved that Q was not angry with him. That would not have been good for his health or his heart. "We do have a tendency to pry where we're not wanted."

Q was silent for a moment. "It's not that you're not wanted," he said softly, a somewhat distressed edge to his tone.

"I know," James said, placatingly. "National security and all that."

"It's not that either."

"It doesn't matter. You have your reasons, I'm sure, and I don't need to know them. I trust you." Impulsively, James leaned in to press a quick kiss to Q's lips. Q made one of his 'surprised-but-pleased' noises, the ones that James tried to elicit from him at every opportunity. Barring, of course, actually bringing all of his equipment back intact.

He offered Q a smile, as he was now staring at James, the furrow between his eyebrows indicating that he was deep in thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw something change on the laptop screen. It looked like whatever Q had been running was finished. The cursor was blinking, waiting for input. "You should get back to that. I've distracted you enough." James stood.

Q glanced at the screen, blankly, then reached up to shut the laptop. "It can wait." He stood as well, grabbing hold of James's arm. The furrow was gone, replaced by a determined frown. He'd come to some sort of decision, it looked like, and nothing could be done to dissuade him.

Not that James would want to do that. He was quite content with where this seemed to be going. Q looked between the sofa and the door to their bedroom, appearing to be weighing the advantages and disadvantages of each. Q decided on the sofa and pulled James along, making him sit down. Then, after setting his glasses on the end table, Q straddled his legs, arranging himself comfortably in James's lap. James ran his hands over Q's back, feeling the shapes of his vertebrae and shoulderblades through the material of his shirt.

Q arched his back in response, gripping the front of James's shirt. But, his pleasure didn't keep him from saying his piece. "As it happens, I do have reason. Even though it's kind of a silly one." James backtracked rapidly through their conversation, then his breath caught in his throat and his hands stilled. It was almost too much to hope for, but that very nearly sounded like Q was going to tell James his name after all.

Q closed his eyes for a moment, taking a steadying breath. He opened them again, brown eyes staring into blue, then said, emphatically, " _James._ "

A moment passed and Q did not continue. "Yes?" James prompted, cautiously.

Q scowled, uncurling his hands to lay them flat on James's chest. "No. Not you."

Perplexed, James quipped, "I don't see any other James around here."

"Not entirely accurate."

There was a pause while several things finally slotted into place for James.

"Your name is James."

"I told you it was ordinary."

"Your name is _James._ "

"I believe we've adequately established this, yes. I can tell that this was a terrible idea. Forget I said anything." Q began to remove himself from James's lap, shoulders tense. That stirred James to action; he finally knew Q's name and he wasn't going to let Q deny that just because he was embarrassed about it. He turned and pushed Q down onto the sofa, showering him with insistent kisses.

"You wouldn't tell me because we have the same name," he murmured, giddily, against Q's neck.

"I figured that Q would be a sufficient appellation. I like it well enough." Q had relaxed, and was now running one hand through James's hair while the other unbuttoned James's shirt. "It adds to the mystique, I think. Very sensual letter, Q."

"I would have to agree with that. I am quite attracted to your codename." He began to return the favor, opening Q's shirt button by button, pressing another kiss to each new bit of skin that was revealed.

"Just my codename?" There was an amused lilt to Q's tone, under the rough sound of arousal. He pushed James's shirt back, off of his shoulders, and James stopped his ministrations only long enough to pull it off and toss it aside. Q's shirt followed moments afterward.

James ceded the point with a smirk, "You do have a few other attractive features." He raked his eyes over Q's lean body, hungrily. 

"I should hope so." Q pushed James back, and James almost protested, but then he realized that Q just needed space to pull off his trousers.

James stood up to do the same, grabbing a tube of lubricant while he was at it. He pushed Q back down on the sofa when they had both fully disrobed. Lubed fingers entered Q and he let out a moan, throwing his head back. James took the opportunity to make his mark on Q's exposed neck, nipping and sucking at it until a bruise began to form.

"Get a move on," Q gasped, somehow managing to sound cross and extremely pleased at the same time.

James was only too happy to oblige. He slipped his fingers out and quickly slicked himself before pressing into Q. He started off moving slowly, but Q wasn't having it, meeting each thrust and urging James onward. They reached a familiar rhythm, Q giving as good as he got. 

As he felt Q near his peak, James pushed as deep as he could and whispered into his Quartermaster's ear, "James."

Q shivered and arched up with a groan, hearing his name, his real name, on James's lips. "Fuck," he swore, as his body shuddered with completion. James followed moments later, his breathing harsh.

James managed to flip their positions, pulling Q on top of him on the sofa, before he succumbed to satisfied oblivion. He had his Q, his James, safe and warm in his arms. All was well.

+++++

James woke before Q in the early hours of the morning. He lay there, feeling the rise and fall of Q's chest against his, and ran his hands absently through Q's dark curls. At length, Q stirred, and James could tell by the slight increase in the tempo of his breathing that he was awake, though he hadn't yet opened his eyes.

With a fond smirk, James decided to break the silence. "I suppose we could always go with Jim. Or Jimmy."

"If you value your life—" came Q's sleep-roughened voice. He cracked open his eyes blearily and cleared his throat. "No, oftentimes you don't seem to do that. If you value your continued presence in my bed, you will never again consider calling me Jimmy."

James laughed. Q huffed and clambered off of him, stretching his sore muscles, which afforded James quite a view. And then, inevitably, he nabbed his glasses from where he'd left them and wandered over to his abandoned laptop. James suppressed a sigh as he sat up himself and followed, moving to stand behind Q's chair.

As the laptop woke, the brightness of the screen cut though the dim light of the room, casting everything in sharp relief. Q punched in his password, which James happened to know. James also happened to know that Q had designed the machine himself in the same spirit as James's firearm, and the password would only work if Q was the one typing it. So, the fact that it happened to be 'goahead007makemyday' was not of much use to anyone. 

Q was intently scanning the results from whatever he had running the previous night. It didn't look like much to James, but Q seemed pleased. "Good news?" he asked.

"Better than expected, considering you were doing your damnedest to distract me," Q responded loftily. "I'll need to run more tests, obviously, but the algorithm seems sound." Q was already opening a new window and typing something else up, and James just knew that if he let this go on, Q wouldn't be moving for the next few hours.

"Shower first," he said firmly, nudging Q's shoulder.

"It won't take fifteen minutes."

"Neither will a shower."

Q's fingers stilled on the keyboard, and he tilted his head back to look up at James. "Must I?"

"Yes. Your code's kept this long. It can go a bit longer without you fixing it, James." James reached over Q to shut the laptop. Q didn't even protest, too busy being wildly conflicted about liking James using his real name. James would try to use it sparingly, lest Q become accustomed to it. Mostly, he thought, as he pulled Q to his feet and on to the bathroom, because the baffled expression on Q's face was something to be savoured.


End file.
